


Another matter entirely

by weaksoul (window_to_the_soul)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/window_to_the_soul/pseuds/weaksoul
Summary: Everyone knows that an Alpha needs an Omega to be happy.





	1. Marriage, and why Jacob sucks at it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KristinStone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristinStone/gifts).



> I blame [KristinStone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristinStone/pseuds/KristinStone). For everything in general, and this story in particular. She just wouldn't write me that happy story.  
> So, this is all. Your. Fault.

She was furious. The pat-pat-pat of her sensible shoes echoed through empty hallways, and the stairs seemed to crumble under the force of her anger. The older employees had vacated the wing she was in and taken the younger, less experienced with them. Nobody got in her way when she was pissed. It was safer that way. The unassuming door opened with a loud bang, collided with the wall behind it and swung back toward her face. She lifted her hand before it could break her nose and marched through the doorway. 

“Jacob Heather!” She was too angry even for insults. “You. Are going to be. Late. Again!” The man who had just until that moment been sitting behind a huge ivory desk lifted a pair of green eyes. 

“Ah, Becks. Can you please – ” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Rebecca crossed the room with alarming speed to slam both hands on the wooden desk. Her own, blue eyes were narrowed to cat-like slits. 

“Up. Out of that chair. Where’s your suit? The tie? What are you even wearing?” Jacob flinched at her harsh words. He had learned, through years of trial and error, that it was best to just do what she wanted when she was in that particular mood. Even though he didn’t particularly feel like getting up. Or dressed. 

“Tie’s over the chair back there,” he gestured towards a hallstand behind him and to his left. Becca nodded shortly. “Suit… no clue. Must be around here somewhere, though.” The young woman inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and counted to ten before she started to yell again. 

“Why are you not wearing them?! The auction starts in ten bloody minutes, and you’re neither in the bloody car nor even dressed! Get your ass up, Heather!” 

“Listen, Becks – ” She pulled him up by the lapels of his soft dressing gown. 

“Don’t you Becks me. If you are not in the car – and that suit on you – in exactly five minutes, there will be hell to pay. Am I clear?” He sighed, looking for all the world like she was the one being unreasonable. “Am I clear?” she repeated, and finally, he nodded. Becca whirled around, slammed the door shut and left in search of the butler. 

Sometimes she hated her job. Sure, personal assistant to one of the world’s richest bachelors had its perks. He always smelled nice, for one. And the pay was fantastic. Plus, she kind of liked the bastard. But on days like this one she felt rather like an overpaid nanny. Why he never got to anything on time was beyond her. In Becca’s mind, there were few things as unattractive about a man as tardiness. And Jacob seemed to make a habit out of it. How he was ever going to get a suitable mate was beyond her. And his father was starting to get pissed, too. If she didn’t get the lazy idiot married off soon, she would have to face the old bastard as well. Not a thought to relish. Well, at least Jacob was manageable. With a shudder she thought about his younger brother. That one had gotten married, and quite happily too, or so it seemed at the time. Until his pretty little omega had run off with another alpha, and the family had cut ties with the poor man. That was not going to happen to Jacob, not if she had any say on the matter. And god help anyone who dared imply that she might not. 

The butler had vacated the building, or else gone into hiding, so Becca settled for insulting the valet, the driver and a poor maid that hadn’t done anything wrong except not running fast enough when the P.A. stomped down the stairs. 

“Heather! Why are you not in the car yet?!” Jacob hurried down the steps behind her, mumbling something that sounded too much like an apology to appease her and too little like actual remorse, passed her and disappeared through the door. Without his coat, the matching hat, a proper pair of shoes or, god beware, matching socks. At least, she thought in defeat, his sneakers were a clean pair, not the ones he had snuck around the garden in yesterday. Small victories. 

“I have no time for you, Becks!” Jacob called from the huge set of doors, ushered outside by the driver, “my P.A. says I can’t be late for the auction. Would love to chat, see you later!” She fought the urge to laugh at that, because damn him, but Jacob could be funny if he wanted to. 

“I’ll wait for you,” she whispered as the doors clanged shut behind him. She allowed herself that moment of weakness, that moment of hope that he would come home without a beautiful new wife clinging to his arm and smile that crooked smile of his at her and tell her they’d all been flimsy, or some such bull. Shaking her head she turned on her heel. There was no time for idle dreams, especially not ones about her boss, the head of the Heather family, richest, most available bachelor to date. Becca had actual work to do. 

 

“Maid!” she called, making sure to put less threat in her voice than a moment before. She didn’t want to scare the women away, after all. A young woman in grey uniform appeared from nowhere, smiling blandly. 

“Yes, Miss Tower?” Becca gestured towards the first floor. 

“Have the chambers for Ja – Mr. Heather’s new wife prepared.” The maid hesitated, a frown on her delicate features. 

“Why should he bring a mate this time?” she asked, and Becca narrowed her eyes. 

“Are you questioning my ability to make the fucking idiot listen?” she growled, and the short woman flinched. Becca almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But then her mind wandered back to the conversation she’d had with Jacob’s father, and his thinly veiled threats, and her own argument with Jacob. And all thoughts of regret flew out the window. Stupid alphas and their stupid ideas about propriety. And marriage. And life, for god’s sake. 

“We-ll…” Becca had to give the poor woman credits for courage. “He’s been to six auctions in the last three weeks without…” 

“I am well aware of my own shortcomings,” Becca hissed. “But I have made my opinion on the matter very clear to him, and he will bring back a mate tonight or god help him I’ll put him over my knees and spank the git.” The maid paled and hurried upstairs, towards the master bedroom. Becca smiled grimly. The domestics were scared of her when she got angry, and she did nothing to dissuade them. True, it might have been unconventional – and a little cruel – to let the servants bear the brunt of her anger, but Rebecca knew that they had little respect for the master proper of the household. At least they feared her anger enough to make sure Jacob got fed, the house cleaned and all the chores done properly. Really, without her, the whole household would probably turn into utter chaos in a matter of days. Oh, and of course she rarely made empty threats. That helped.

Returning to her own rooms in the old servant’s wing of the mansion, she pulled off her shoes at the door and sighed deeply as soon as she was sure she was alone. Collapsing onto her bed, Becca buried her face in her hands. Alphas and Omegas, that was the whole problem. Jacob was a nice enough man - mostly, if you didn’t count his tardiness or his inability to find matching socks within less than ten minutes, or, well, she could go on. The point was, Jacob Heather was nice, gentle and cared for those around him. He would make any girl he chose to marry very, very happy. But he was also an alpha, and as such it was virtually impossible for him to be happy with anything less than an omega. Truth be told, most alphas nowadays could choose whichever mate they wanted, but all they did want was one of the omegas. It was better that way, of course, their biology balancing each other out and their urges matching. No beta could ever hope to understand what it meant to be in heat, to crave another being simply for their anatomy, their smell and their knot. Or feel the intense rush of a rut, of wanting and needing and taking without thought. Becca was really grateful for that. The thought of being a slave to her body was scary, if she was honest, and she had seen Jacob go through enough ruts to know that they weren’t all romantic and fun, no matter what the books would have you believe.

With a deep inhale, she got back up from her bed, settling at the old, worn desk at the window instead. Taking out the files of the previous day, she began to work, mapping out numbers, checking sales and trades and agreements and contracts. Organizing them in piles, pulling those aside that would need Jacob’s immediate attention once he returned, and those he merely had to sign. It took longer than she would have liked, and when finally the last piece of paper and the last email were checked and sorted, the sun had set and it was time to make sure dinner was served. She took out her phone, dialling a number she knew by heart by now. 

“Mrs. June,” she greeted, forcing politeness in her tone. The auctions were despicable things, in her personal opinion. It just wasn’t right to sell human beings. But they were the only choice available – and feasible, given Jacob’s talent with women – and so she dealt with her own misgivings. On her own. Besides, disagreeing with someone’s work was no reason to be impolite. “How are you tonight?” 

“Miss Tower,” the woman on the other end of the line sighed. “You again. The auction is almost over.” 

“Has Mr. Heather chosen a mate?” A chuckle, and it made Becca’s insides freeze. The woman with the raspy voice actually sounded happy. 

“He has!” The words were like ice in her stomach. Rebecca swallowed against the rising bile. He had? How could he…why had he…? The thoughts chased each other, none staying for longer than a second. 

“Has she any special dietary needs?” Her own voice sounded tinny in her ears. Becca swallowed against the sudden pain. A mate. Jacob would come home with a mate tonight. Tonight. Oh god, there was barely enough time to get everything ready. There was no time to prepare. Becca jumped up from her creaking chair, stalking to the door, hand on the handle. She stopped there, just breathing. 

“Not as such, but Miranda has quite the sweet tooth… Miss Tower? Are you still there?” 

“…Yes, yes, I do apologize. I just need to get everything prepared for their return. Have a nice day, Mrs. June, and thank you for your assistance.” She let the phone fall from her hands, staring at the polished brass door knob. Tears blurred her vision. Shit. She had promised herself not to cry. She was a beta, she had no business being heartbroken over Jacob’s happiness. She might like him a little more than what propriety dictated, true, but that was no reason to… no reason to - ! Her knees gave up their service, sending Becca to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

There are women who are beautiful even if they cry their hearts out. Rebecca was not one of them, and she knew it. Her face got red, her eyes puffy, her nose ran like nobody’s business. She made the most unattractive sounds, too, like a dying animal or a wailing wraith. Still, she couldn’t help it. Becca cried, helplessly, for the love she couldn’t have, for the life forever lost to her, only because she had been born a beta and not an omega. Even though she knew Jacob since they were ten, even though he had given her her first kiss on a dare in fifth grade, even though he was everything to her. How could some stupid little omega destroy all that? She pressed her fist into her mouth, muffling any sounds she was making, biting down hard and relished the pain. Rebecca allowed herself ten minutes to cry, then forced her breath to calm down again. There would be enough time for feeling heartbroken after she ensured that the new wife – Miranda, if she remembered correctly – got settled in alright and had everything she could ever want. Because Rebecca would go to the front door and greet Jacob with a hug and congratulate him on his fine choice, and she would smile at the new woman. She would make sure it all went according to plan. No matter how much she hated the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love to hurt your characters in the worst way?


	2. Meet the missus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda meets Becks, and Jacob is understandably nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's your update, Kristin. And on time, too!

Becks would greet them at the door. The thought swirled through Jacob’s mind, like it held some sort of deeper meaning, something he couldn’t quite grasp. He looked over at his – his mate-to-be. Miranda was… He shook his head. She was beautiful, yes. Her hair was light blonde, almost white in the glaring light of street lamps rushing by. Big, brown doe eyes observed his movements, a little hesitant and unsure, but her interest was there. They hadn’t spoken much after the auction, just the necessary “where are your things”s and “the car is this way”s. The way she smelled worried him a little. It was an intense thing, that smell, heady and sweet. Intoxicating. He understood it was because omegas were sold just a few or so days before their heats, so a successful mating was ensured. It made Jacob nervous. He would have preferred to get to know her first. To learn what she liked and disliked, what made her laugh and what would insult her. Because at the moment, the thought of just jumping into bed with a random stranger didn’t sound too appealing. In fact, he would have preferred not to jump into bed with Miranda at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her – that part wouldn’t be a problem. She was easy on the eyes, and her sheet had said she was gentle and soft-spoken. Whatever that was supposed to mean. But… but. Becks would greet them at the door. 

“Master Heather? We’re home.” The driver’s words interrupted his thoughts, and Jacob hurried out of the car to open the door for Miranda by himself. Call him old fashioned, but if he had to spend the rest of his life with her, he should at least be a perfect gentleman. Or as much, he thought with a wry smile, as I ever will be. 

“Thank you, Mr. Heather,” Miranda said. She had a beautiful voice, too, all soft and alluring. Still, she looked so young. Not old enough to be married or mated, anyway. She was legal. He had made sure. But from all the girls at the auction, he had chosen the by far youngest looking, and Jacob didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons for that one. 

“Call me Jacob,” he replied, taking her hand and helping Miranda climb out of the car. This close, her scent was even better, and without thinking, he pulled the short woman into his arms, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Gods, that smell would drive any alpha crazy. Miranda may have been the first unmated omega he ever had this close to him, but Jacob was sure that no other would smell quite as sweet. Miranda tensed, going rigid in his arms. It was like a cold shower to Jacob’s frantic thoughts, and he let go, stumbling back. 

“Sorry, sorry!” The words tumbled from his mouth in an embarrassed rush. “It’s just, you’re the first omega I’ve ever… and you smell so sweet and I – just, I’m sorry.” He turned, intent on hurrying towards the doors and finally getting this night over with, when a small hand tugged at his.  
“It’s okay, Jacob,” Miranda said, smiling shyly. “I was just startled is all.” He nodded, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there, right on the pebbles of his driveway, just a few feet from his front door, and staring at each other until the silence grew awkward. Jacob laughed nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. 

“I… see. Sorry I startled you, then. Come on, now, I’m sure Becks is waiting.” Miranda lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Becks?” she asked. He gestured towards the front door, a huge, iron affair that did nothing to soothe the fears of any stranger passing by. 

“She’s my P.A. You’ll love her – she makes sure I don’t embarrass myself, which means you and her will have plenty to commiserate about.” He laughed, and to his surprise, Miranda joined in. She had a nice laugh, he thought. Feminine, in contrast to Becks’ roaring, loud bellowing. Really, his new mate was nothing like Becks. He’d made sure. Shaking his head to dislodge the annoying thought, he led his mate-to-be up the three stairs and let the petite woman get a good look at her future home.

 

The Heather estate was a three-winged monstrosity that could only be maintained because Jacob himself and his father worked hard, and because his grandfather had gotten filthy rich in some dubious gaming. When it was built, someone must have gone to the architect and said, “Listen, mate, I want a building that has as many different styles as possible. And gargoyles, lots and lots of gargoyles.” The thing was butt ugly in Jacob’s opinion, but it was also his – he’d bought it from his father three years ago with money he and Becks had scraped together over many more. It reminded him of a super hero hideout, if said super hero had a bad case of architectural diarrhoea. Or – something. But to an outsider the estate looked impressive and became even more so in daylight, when the trees at the driveway couldn’t completely obscure the small gardens behind them anymore. Miranda’s eyes were huge as she took in the scenery, and Jacob couldn’t help but feel a little pleased at her obvious wonderment.  
“Welcome to your new home,” he said, softly, and found his hand taking hers again without conscious decision on his part. She squeezed back, looking at him under her eyelashes. 

“It’s very… impressive,” Miranda said, taking a step back to try and see the roof atop the third floor. Jacob nodded. 

“It even comes with its own set of servants.” It was bragging and he knew it, but it seemed right to want to impress the woman at his side. She would be his wife one day, after all. It was important she liked the place, right?

“Were you planning on making me wait on the other side of the bloody door some longer, or will you let your lovely new wife in so she won’t freeze to death?” Becks’ voice echoed through the steel door. Blushing, Jacob remembered the peephole, and hoped to god that Becks hadn’t seen him blush and stammer like a fool. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Really, why was he so nervous? It was just his new mate meeting the most important woman of his life. Oh, right. That. “Let us in?” He could hear Becks huff and grinned down at Miranda. She barely reached his shoulders, but her returning smile was so bright it was blinding. His heart skipped a beat. The doors swung apart, revealing Becks in her best business suit – and slippers. Jacob barely suppressed a grin at the sight of prim and proper Rebecca Tower wearing pink bedtime slippers. He remembered them, of course, they’d been a mock Christmas present a couple of years ago. That she actually wore the fuzzy shoes made his heart flutter pleasantly. 

“Good evening, Jacob,” Becks greeted. Jacob frowned. Something about her seemed off. Maybe it was the way the corners of her mouth lifted – the movement was slow, not the quick flash of her smile he was used to. Or the hint of redness around her eyes. “And hello to you, too, Miranda. It’s good to meet you.” She extended a hand towards his mate-to-be, and really, Jacob should not have been surprised that she knew her name. Becks knew everything about him, from the size of shoes he was wearing to the hiding place of his not-so-secret collection of porn magazines. So why not the name of his wife, too? Miranda looked just as surprised when she shook Becks’ hand. 

“I’m Rebecca Tower, and don’t call me Becks like the idiot beside you does. I swear he only wants to spite me. I’m his P.A., or rather: I’m the nanny. I hope we’ll get along well.” Jacob frowned, because hell if there wasn’t something wrong about the way Becks smiled. Too many teeth, maybe? Or was it her posture? It did look a little stiff. “Maybe you can even get him to wear matching socks,” Becks sighed, interrupting his thoughts with an exasperate gesture towards his feet. Oops. “God knows I’ve been trying for years, and nothing sticks.” She was rambling. Was she as nervous about this as he was? Somehow, that made things better. If even Becks felt awkward, then he was allowed to feel utterly terrified of Miranda’s reaction. The woman at his side was currently checking out his socks, going so far as to carefully lift one pant leg. Jacob didn’t squeak. Just so. 

“I will… do my best?” It sounded like a guess more than anything, but Becks nodded at Miranda like they’d just sealed a deal. And maybe they had – with women, it was always hard to tell. “Uhm, you can call me Miranda. I mean, my name is Miranda Charton, but call me – eh, you know.” Miranda giggled, and it was such an adorable sound that Jacob had to fight the urge to hug her. 

“Alright, Miranda,” Becks replied. “You can call me Becca, if you’d like.” 

“Hi, Becca.” 

 

For a moment they all stood there, Jacob and Miranda still mostly outside and Becks holding on to the door as if her life depended on it. Then, she clapped her hands and gestured into the darkness. 

“Jefferson, bring Miranda’s belongings up to the second floor, please!” she called, then addressed the woman in question, completely ignoring Jacob as she ushered her inside. “Your suite is right next to Jacob’s, if you need anything, just knock. He’s a light sleeper, he’ll wake at the tiniest sound in front of his door. I’ve seen to it that everything you could need is inside, but if I’ve forgotten anything, please just tell me. Or,” she added, tapping her chin, “call for a maid.” 

“A maid?” Miranda repeated. She looked at the entry hall with even bigger eyes as she was led upstairs, following Becks like a lost puppy. Jacob didn’t hear her reply anymore. Suddenly, he was all alone in his house. With his wife and the woman he – and with Becks. 

“Well,” Jacob said, “fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an alpha, Jacob is surprisingly clueless.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There must have been more awkward situations in her life, but she couldn't remember them right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling sorry for your characters just isn't an option sometimes.

She woke with a start, only to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. It took almost an entire minute to remember what she was doing here. The auction. Miranda shivered and pulled a blanket she couldn’t remember getting up to cover her pyjamas. The sofa she had stumbled to in the middle of the night – why had she left the room she’d been given again? – stood in a huge living room. Miranda had never seen such a place before, let alone been in one. The floor was marble, or some other expensive kind of stone, and her feet felt cold even looking at it. The sofa seemed a little lost in the emptiness. Actually, it didn’t look like it belonged in here at all. Miranda blinked. And that room didn’t seem like a living room, either. More a… a ballroom. With huge mirrors to one side where her own face, tired and pale, looked back at her, and stone pillars covered in vines. She looked so small in here. Two windows, or more likely doors, looked over a huge, sprawling garden, and dim, grey light fell through them. 

“Hello?” she called out, and her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. It echoed loudly in the utterly empty room. Pressing the blanket closer to herself and inhaling its scent, she closed her eyes. This was surreal. She was in the middle of a ballroom, and had slept on a random, deep purple sofa. She had been put under the guardianship of… oh, whatever his name had been, and had met his P.A. whatsherface. She wished, suddenly, that she hadn’t been so swept away with all the pomp and the new people and the fact that she was going to meet the one alpha that was perfect for her that she hadn’t forgotten her small notebook. It would have been taken upstairs by – maids. Miranda shivered and braved the cold floor. The stone was exactly as cold as she’d imagined, and a squeak escaped her lips before she hurried, on the tip of her toes, wrapped in a ridiculously large blanket, to a set of double doors. They opened easily, and Miranda found herself dace to face with a young woman with stern features and dark hair. She remembered her, of course: It was the P.A. But the name escaped her. 

“Uhm, good morning?” she asked, because the other woman just stared at her, mouth slightly agape in shock. 

“What are you doing in the ballroom?” The beta looked past her. “How did the sofa get in there? What’s going on, Miranda?” Then she frowned at the blanket. “Is that the butler’s?” 

“I… I don’t know?” The P.A. sighed, shaking her head. 

“Okay, first things first. Why aren’t you in your bedroom? Wasn’t it to your liking?” How could this woman be that awake at such an ungodly hour in the morning? The sun wasn’t even up all the way yet.  
Miranda just blinked. She was standing in her pyjamas in front of a woman fully dressed in a blouse and skirt, perfectly braided dark hair and a folder under her left arm. Who wanted her to explain that it was impossible to sleep in a room that smelled of nothing but another woman, next to a bedroom where said woman and the man she was to marry and mate argued loudly. Until way past midnight. She remembered, quite suddenly, quietly clicking the door to the strange room shut and sneaking downstairs, into the entry hall thing. Then, she must have somehow found the sofa in the ballroom? 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. The P.A. nodded, as if that explained everything. Maybe to her, it did. Miranda had to tilt her head to look her in the eyes, and it felt awkward. Everything about this place, about her, felt awkward, and she could barely feel her feet anymore. 

“Is there a bathroom nearby?” That seemed to shake the other woman – had her name started with a P? Maybe a G or an E? – out of her staring. She took Miranda’s arm, pulling her along.  
“Of course,” she said, smiling to herself. “I’ll have the butler draw you a map. This place is quite a bit to get used to, hm?” 

“Yes?” Oh goodness, why was that woman making conversation like they’d known each other for years? Why had she even come to the ballroom?  
“…the butler?” was all she could think of. The older woman nodded. 

“He takes care of things like that. I think it’s one of his blankets you’re carrying around. I swear the man is secretly an omega, with the way he collects blankets,” she said, gesturing wildly at nothing. Miranda followed the pattern she traced with the folder in alarm. “He must’ve also moved the sofa. No offense, but you look like you couldn’t lift a pillow if your life depended on it.” She nodded. Apparently, Miranda wasn’t required to actually contribute to the discussion, which was just as well. She had absolutely no idea what to say. “Must remember to thank him later. Here, bathroom. I’ll send a maid to fetch you for breakfast.”

And then she was gone, and Miranda standing in front of another door in gods-knew-where in the mansion of her future husband. Whom she hadn’t seen all morning. Maybe he was just shy? Mrs. June had smiled always when telling them how their perfect mate would find them. It had sounded so very romantic. Of course, reality was rarely that smooth, but… Miranda sighed. Okay, so maybe she had hoped for… his name, she needed to at least remember her future mate’s name! … Anyway, for him to sweep her off her feet and never look at anyone ever again. To wake her with breakfast in bed and shower her with affection. Then again, with a house as huge as this one, she thought and let the blanket slide off her shoulders inside the bathroom, he must have been working hard. He was probably just busy, and sent his P.A. so she wouldn’t feel lonely. Miranda looked around and realized that while she now was in a bathroom, and a huge one at that, and could shower, she would afterwards have nothing to put on. Because her clothes were in the strange bedroom, and she had absolutely no idea where that was. Poking her nose out of the door, she almost jumped a foot in the air when a short, stout woman with a high nose and blonde curls smiled at her. 

“Are you ready to come down for breakfast, m’lady?” she asked. Miranda gaped. Closed the door, leant against it, and breathed. Okay. Okay, she could deal with this. Being called “m’lady”? No problem. She swallowed, and opened the door again. The maid was still there. 

“Err,” Miranda said smartly. “Erm, could you maybe find me clothes to wear? Please? They must be in the… in my… somewhere?” The maid smiled at her. 

“I’ll be right back, m’lady,” she answered politely and curtseyed. Miranda felt faint. 

 

When Miranda finally decided she couldn’t hide in the bathroom any more, her skin was pink and her fingers wrinkled. The maid, the same one, stood in front of the door and held out her hand. Miranda stared at it. Was she supposed to shake it or something?

“Your pyjamas,” the maid said, kindly. “And the blanket. The butler will want to have it back.” 

“Oh, right.” She handed the items over, and the maid vanished, only to be replaced by one that looked practically the same, minus the high nose and with hazel hair instead. 

“Please, follow me to the breakfast hall,” the new woman said.  
The smell of breakfast wafting through a set of open doors was divine, and Miranda’s stomach growled in agreement. She blushed, pressing a hand to her stomach, and smiled apologetically at the maid. Only to realize the woman had since entered the room and was pulling a chair back for her. 

“Good morning,” she said and sat down, feeling stupid. This, she decided, would be a learning experience. Or, rather: It would be swim or sink. And she currently had two stones tied to her feet. 

“Morning, Miranda,” the P.A. said, looking up from the morning paper. It seemed like she was highlighting stuff with a yellow marker. “Jacob will be down somewhere in the next half an hour, or I will go up and drag him out of bed.” 

“Please don’t, I’m here, I’m here,” said her husband – so his name’d been Jacob – and hurried in. He took the paper from the other woman’s hand, skimming the headlines and frowning at the yellow marks. “Really?” he asked, “they’re pushing for more green energy again?” He completely ignored Miranda, sitting down when a maid pulled his chair back without even bothering to look, and began  
reading. Until his P.A. cleared her throat. Loudly. 

“Jacob.” He stopped, but his eyes didn’t leave the page. 

“I haven’t even had any coffee yet, Becks,” he said, “can’t you wait with the nagging?” 

“Jacob.” The P.A. – “don’t call me Becks, I swear the idiot does it to spite me” – lifted her voice a fraction. Finally, her soon-to-be-mate looked up, staring straight at her. 

“What? I’m wearing matching socks! My tie is properly bound – I asked the butler. The shirt is clearn. What can you possibly have to complain about?”  
Miranda wanted to cry. It was like she wasn’t even in the room. Her own husband hadn’t even noticed her presence yet. And this close to her heat, he should have at least smelled her, shouldn’t he? 

“Jacob Heather! You haven’t even said good morning to your new wife yet!” 

“What?” He blinked, put down the paper, and stared at Miranda. Like she was the strangest thing he’d seen all day. Her cheeks blushed furiously and she ducked her head. Jacob was looking at her, his beautiful, grey eyes huge and all colour drained from his face. “Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry!” he called out, almost throwing the chair down in his haste to come to her side. “Good morning, Miranda. Did you sleep well?” 

“She didn’t,” came the scathing reply from P.A.-not-Becks. “And no thanks to you. Really, Jacob. You have to leave in ten minutes and that is what she gets? Hug her, idiot. Kiss her on the cheek or something. Can you imagine how Miranda must be feeling?” Miranda, who felt like crying or hiding, or maybe both at the same time, shrank further into her chair. And she hadn’t even gotten around to try any of the food set on a plate before her yet. 

“I’m sorry,” Jacob repeated. “Listen, I’m not the most attentive person in the morning.” His face took on an earnest look and he carefully took her hand. His was warm, and this close, he smelled faintly of ink and coffee. Miranda wanted to bury her face in his chest. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.” 

“It’s alright,” she said. “I haven’t been here that long yet.” It would get better in time. It had to. Then the rest of his sentence caught up to her. 

“What do you mean, tonight?” 

“I have to work,” he said. “Becks’ll come, too. We’re sorry we have to leave you all alone on your first day, but unless you happen to know anything about leading a big enterprise…?” At her headshake, he sighed. “Yeah. Becks, what did you prepare?” 

“I’m not the nanny,” the P.A. sighed. She looked at Miranda. “Mrs. June said you liked reading, gardening and baking? I’ll get something set up. Until then…” She frowned in thought. “Have you been in the city yet? We can drop you off at the park.” Miranda, who knew going out just wasn’t going to happen, felt bad for interrupting the other woman. 

“I… I can’t,” she said. The P.A. frowned. 

“Why ever not?” Miranda pulled a face. 

“I’m,” she started, swallowed. This wasn’t something any of her classes had prepared her for. “It’s… I…” How to voice this? “I’m really close to my heat, and I’m not mated,” she settled on. The silence that reigned after her announcement was one of the single most awkward moments of her entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you just love to make your characters hurt in the worst way possible?


End file.
